


Desirable Interruptions

by little Alex (litalex)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-09
Updated: 2000-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litalex/pseuds/little%20Alex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, although I wish that they do.<br/>Rather, they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, and various people<br/>and companies that I can't remember right now. Lucky bastards.</p>
<p>Feedback: Yes! I'll shamelessly beg for it. ;-)</p>
<p>Spoilers: Anything and everything up to "Pangs," season four</p>
<p>Personal Notes: No betas. I apologize for all uncorrected spelling and<br/>grammatical errors.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Desirable Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, although I wish that they do.  
> Rather, they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, and various people  
> and companies that I can't remember right now. Lucky bastards.
> 
> Feedback: Yes! I'll shamelessly beg for it. ;-)
> 
> Spoilers: Anything and everything up to "Pangs," season four
> 
> Personal Notes: No betas. I apologize for all uncorrected spelling and  
> grammatical errors.

Giles' Home  
November 24, 1999  
Night before Thanksgiving

*****

Rupert Giles took off his glasses and laid them on the coffee table.  
Leaning further back into his armchair, he closed his eyes and  
rubbed his thumbs against his temples, one hand on each side. He had  
been trying to go over another of his ancient texts, but for the  
last two days, he was constantly interrupted. As if mocking him, the  
doorbell rang loudly just then and he sighed. Why could the children  
not give him even a moment of peace and quiet? At least enough time  
that he may finish his task. Well, no matter. He stood up, walked  
over to the door, and threw the damn thing wide open. "Hello."

There stood his guest, tall, dark, and handsome, heartbreakingly so.  
"Hello, Rupert."

"Angel. What a pleasant surprise." Without waiting for an answer,  
Giles waved in his friend. He walked back into his home and watched  
as Angel closed the door. "Is there something wrong?" he asked,  
though the real question was: 'Why are you here?'

The vampire glanced at the opened books on the coffee table and his  
eyebrows knitted softly together. "I've interrupted your work. I'm  
sorry." Nonetheless, he took off the jacket and carelessly slung it  
across a chair.

"It's all right. I wasn't doing much anyway." Giles almost asked if  
Angel wanted something to drink when he remembered exactly what his  
guest was. Suppressing a sardonic smile, he shrugged and resumed his  
seat in the armchair. "Please, sit down." He nodded at the sofa.

Angel obediently sat and continued his words, "I came by because I  
think Buffy is in trouble."

Giles frowned. "Being in trouble seems to be part of a Slayer's job  
description. How do they call it -- an occupational hazard." Giles  
felt a pang of anger but it burned away quickly enough. Angel had  
disappeared into thin air months ago without telling anyone. And  
now, it seemed that the only reason he was back was Buffy. Giles  
thought that they were friends. How difficult could it be to pick up  
a telephone and make a social call of 'Yeah, I'm all right'? Too  
difficult for Angel, evidently. "What type of trouble is Buffy in  
this time?"

"I've a friend in L.A., whose name is Doyle. He's a half-demon and  
he sees these visions of people in trouble--"

"And Doyle saw a vision of Buffy in trouble."

"Exactly." Angel held onto Giles' steady gaze.

Giles was about to ask more on Buffy when his curiosity got the  
better of him. "What about the visions of other people?"

"I go rescue them."

Giles quirked an eyebrow and allowed a small smile onto his lips.  
"Angel the super hero. Who'd have guessed." Angel answered with a  
gentle smile, an occurrence so rare that it clutched Giles' heart  
momentarily. Giles managed to squeeze out his next question, "How  
are you going to help her?"

Angel shrugged. "Any way I can."

Giles nodded with a sigh. "Don't let her see you. She's still mad  
that you've disappeared." Giles left the words, 'So am I,' unspoken.

"And she'll be mad that I show up again after her wounds have healed."

"Wounds of the heart never truly heal. We only buried them deep  
enough that they don't seem to hurt anymore." Oh, no, he said that  
aloud, did he not? He did not want to say it, did not want to hear  
his own vindictive declaration in such a bitter tone.

Angel became still at the sound of Giles' words, his usual imitation  
of breathing stopping just for a second. Angel's voice so soft and  
low, Giles almost did not hear the words. "Yes, we do tend to do  
that. Don't we?" He looked into Giles' eyes, showing a pain equaled  
to Giles' own and a sympathy kinder than what Giles could have ever  
managed.

Giles put a slightly trembling hand onto Angel's knee. "I'm sorry.  
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Yes, you did. You absolutely meant to do that." Angel covered the  
hand on his knee with his own hand and squeezed. "But I forgive you.  
It's not your fault that you," he said, his tone softening, "love me."

Giles snatched his hand back and forced his gaze onto the books on  
the coffee table. His touch light and absent-minded, he stroked his  
hand down the black symbols on a random page. 'Why,' he wanted to  
ask, 'Why bring it up now?' Well aware that Angel was still waiting  
for an answer, he settled for a lie not too deeply untrue. "No, I  
don't." Seeing the apparent disbelief in Angel's eyes, he shook his  
head gently. He had to clear up this jumble of emotions eventually;  
might as well be now. "I might have two years ago, but I don't  
anymore. I still love you as I would any of my best friends, but I'm  
not in love with you." He ran a hand through his remaining hair and  
murmured, "Perhaps I never have been."

Angel leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He laced his  
fingers together and dropped his gaze onto the ground. A minute  
passed. "Nice carpet."

Giles pressed his lips together for a moment, and then opened them  
with a sigh. "Thank you. It came with the house."

Angel snapped his gaze back onto Giles', locking them so efficiently  
one might have heard a click. "Was it because of him?" No need at  
all to specify which 'him.'

"No, I've forgiven you his sins a long time ago. He wasn't you."

Looking back down at the floor, Angel stood up, flicking away  
non-existent lint on his shirt. "You sound very sure of that."

"More sure than you are, it seems." Giles leaned back against his  
chair, his gaze still following Angel.

Angel paced the room, pausing here and there to study various pieces  
of furniture. He curled only one arm around himself, but it was  
enough to signal his uneasiness to Giles. Giles wondered what was  
wrong. In all their time together as friends and -- dared he say it  
\-- lovers, they had never been afraid to speak the truth to each other.

Seemingly having reached a decision, Angel walked back to the sofa  
and then sat back down in it. "Tell me the real reason, Rupert. You  
owe me at least that much."

Trembling almost imperceptibly, Giles could almost feel his own  
heart constrict. Did he truly think that Angel would not realize?  
Angel was more than two hundred years old; he definitely had seen  
enough to distinguish between mercy and vengeance. And so, yes, he  
did owe Angel at least that much. What remained of their friendship  
demanded it. "I thought that-- I thought that it'd be more of a  
punishment to let you stay alive." The image of Jenny and then his  
own crushed hand flashed inside his mind and he added, "To have you  
souled and knew what sins you've committed."

Now that Giles had completely tore apart the last tatters of this  
friendship, Angel probably would never show up on his doorsteps  
again. He raked his gaze up and down Angel, savoring the sight of  
the broad shoulders, muscular chest, flat stomach, long and graceful  
legs, the almost cutely spiked-up hair, and, of course, the  
beautiful face. Might as well enjoy the fleeting view while it was  
still here.

There were no apparent signs of anger on Angel, however. Still  
studying the oh-so-fascinating carpet, Angel spoke in a  
conversational tone, "I thought so."

"You knew? And you aren't mad?" Giles stared at Angel. He must have  
heard wrongly. He must have.

His eyes blazing, Angel flew at Giles, pinning him against the  
chair. "Of course I was mad. I was so mad that I could've killed  
you. You were my best friend. My only friend here."

His face inches from Angel's, Giles urged all of his physical needs  
to retreat. Now was definitely not a good time to kiss Angel. "The  
past tense implies that you are not angry anymore." What really  
struck were the last two sentences, but Giles could not demand  
explanations on that now.

Angel smiled so predatorily that Giles almost thought that Angelus  
was back. But no, Giles could see the mischief and affection in  
Angel's eyes. It was apparently still Angel, albeit in a very  
intriguing mood. Then Angel closed the distance between their mouths  
and Giles could not think anymore.

Angel could probably keep on with the kiss forever, but Giles still  
needed his supply of oxygen and broke the kiss slowly. He almost  
wished then that he were also a vampire, if only to kiss without  
pauses. Panting a little, he murmured, "We still need to talk"

Angel pressed his lips to Giles' again. "Afterwards, okay?"

Giles could not voice his agreement, since his mouth was quite  
occupied at the moment. They struggled to get up from the chair, but  
ended up in a tangled pile on the floor. Laughing delightedly, they  
stood quickly and Giles pulled Angel to the stairs by hand. Angel  
easily ripped off first his own and then Giles' shirt, ignoring all  
the poor, lost buttons. Giles snorted a laugh at Angel's impatience,  
but his hands pulled at the fly of Angel's tight jeans urgently.  
Struggling up the stairs, they grappled at each other's clothes  
until they were both naked.

Finally inside Giles' bedroom, they were only a few steps away from  
the bed, but Giles could not wait any longer. He wound his arms  
around Angel's waist and wrestled them onto the floor. Thrusting his  
groin against the solid strength of Angel's erection, Giles stroked  
his hand along Angel's sides. He felt a certain amount of urgency,  
despite, or because of, the familiarity of Angel's body, mind, and  
heart. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to Giles' neck, Angel seemed  
content to lie simply on top of Giles and ride out the thrusts in  
matching rhythm.

His left hand on the small of Angel's back, Giles felt a need for  
more. 'More what?' he asked himself silently. 'More intensity, more  
passion, just more,' his body answered. He wanted to feel not only  
Angel's tenderness, but also Angel's need, for he himself certainly  
needed in such an overwhelming degree that it almost scared him.  
Abandoning his fear and anxieties, he stroked his right hand down  
Angel's spine and cupped a round, firm buttock. He squeezed and then  
slapped lightly, eliciting a chuckle against his neck.

In response, Angel bit softly on a particularly sensitive spot on  
Giles' neck and its owner pinched the mound of flesh underneath his  
hand. Giles expected another protest, preferably another bite, but  
Angel only ground his pelvis against Giles'. Giles captured Angel's  
mouth for another kiss, slipping two fingers into Angel's tight  
opening. Angel squirmed, his eyebrows creasing together, and Giles  
immediately pulled out his fingers.

"We don't have to--"

"No, I want to." His elbows on the ground, Angel raised his body so  
that they could talk face-to-face. "I just haven't done this for a  
while." Angel put his head back down again and pressed another round  
of kisses against Giles' neck and shoulders.

Giles entertained the brief fantasy that he was the last man inside  
the gorgeous body and his cock grew impossibly harder. He would have  
to ask, but not now. He had something far more captivating on his  
hands as of this particular moment. Suppressing a 'Ripper'-like  
grin, he again pushed his fingers into the small entrance, this time  
murmuring little soothing noises. Angel's eyes closed, the sweep of  
eyelashes brushing almost unnoticeably against Giles' cheek, and the  
hands on Giles' shoulders tightened. 'Lube,' Giles reminded himself.  
If Angel truly had not done this for two years, they most certainly  
needed lube.

Giles tried breaking the tight embrace, but Angel, his mouth against  
Giles' shoulder, murmured something unintelligible. Giles stopped  
his movements and questioned, "Hmmm?"

Angel raised his head again. "I'll go get it." He rolled easily off  
Giles' body and stood up with casual grace. Walking down the stairs  
in a quick pace, Angel suddenly turned his head and flashed a grin  
at his companion. Giles blinked, surprised by the uncommon but  
beautiful sight. "Don't move, Rupert." Already in the process of  
turning over, Giles stopped his motions and lay back down on the  
floor. His face toward Angel's, he propped himself up by the elbows  
and arched an eyebrow, asking the unvoiced question.

Still grinning like the proverbial child in the candy store, Angel  
put his left hand on the railings and slowly walked backward down  
the stairs. "You know, I've never done it on the floor."

Giles could not help but grin in return. "And you'd love to try."  
Giles knew that they had almost three centuries between them, but  
sometimes, being childish and silly was worth it. He watched as  
Angel nodded and finally disappeared downstairs. Giles stretched and  
put his left arm behind his head, his right hand gently teasing his  
own body. No more than forty seconds later, Angel sauntered back up  
the stairs, a tube of Vaseline in hand. When he arrived at the top  
of the stairs, he knelt between Giles' legs and squeezed a generous  
amount of the grease onto his own hand.

Presumably to let the gel warm, Angel waited a few moments before  
applying the stuff onto Giles' still aching cock. Angel was so  
enthusiastic about the preliminaries that Giles had to stop him with  
a soft growl, which was accompanied by, "I want to come inside you,  
not your hand." Angel shot him a wry smile but released Giles'  
erection from his talented hands. He then squeezed another dollop of  
the grease into Giles' hand and climbed off Giles to lie on his  
stomach, his legs widely spread. Giles stroked his empty hand down  
Angel's spine, enjoying the feel of smooth silky skin, as he warmed  
the gel in his palm.

Pushing two fingers inside Angel, Giles listened carefully to  
Angel's breathing, still fascinated with Angel's adherence to mortal  
habits. Angel hushed his breathing for a moment as Giles twisted the  
fingers around, stretching the tense muscles but also trying to  
tease another reaction out of his too-silent lover. When Angel  
gasped out a moan, Giles coaxed him to raise only his hips. Most  
people would look ridiculous with their heads turned sideways on the  
floor and their arses in the air, but not Angel. Oh, no, Angel would  
look dignified even in the worst situations, but right now he only  
looked like a banquet to be thoroughly enjoyed. And Giles very much  
planned to enjoy it.

He placed a hand on the small of Angel's back and the other hand on  
his own cock. Holding both steady, he pushed slowly into Angel's  
body, one scant inch at a time. 'Dear Lord in Heaven!' his mind  
exclaimed, though he himself only uttered a strangled moan. Oh, so  
tight and hot, as if a burning fist had gripped his cock and refused  
to let go. Indecision hit him, and he was hovering between  
continuing his rough shove forward and easing out to try again. Then  
Angel took the decision away by pushing back with a stretched moan  
of "Please." Giles moved his hands to grasp Angel's hips and, with  
an almost vicious thrust, buried himself so deep inside that there  
was no more space where they were joined. The body underneath Giles'  
own shuddered, but relaxed minutely when Giles reached around and  
touched the now semi-hard cock.

Giles started a smooth rhythm, slow and easy, shallow thrusts that  
Angel matched readily. Usually Giles liked it fast and hard, but the  
Angel he knew required certain amounts of unhurried appreciation.  
His right hand still stroking Angel's cock, he leaned forward and  
wrapped his left arm across Angel's chest, his hand pinching a  
nipple. 'Closer,' Giles thought, wanting to melt into Angel. Maybe  
both of them needed this intimate act to eradicate all thoughts and  
just be -- a moment of abandoning their painful memories and giving  
each other enough comfort to last another day, week, month, year....  
Then Giles allowed himself a brief bout of true delusion: maybe  
Angel did need him after all.

By now, Angel had raised his body to all fours and their pace  
sharpened but also deepened. It seemed that, this time, Angel would  
not mind the little bits of roughness that had became a habit during  
Giles' younger and wilder days. With any less control, Giles would  
have been pounding into the forever-youthful body. Instead, it was  
just fast but long jabs that quickened his heart and breathing.  
Angel was still matching the pace completely, thrusting back  
perfectly in time, the moans and gasps growing louder and harsher.  
Giles closed his eyes, for this was almost too overwhelming to bear,  
and then heard the nonsensical moans changing into the two clear  
syllables of his name.

To hear his own name called out in passion inflamed Giles even more,  
although it was because of this particular voice that had him  
burning. Like a cup overfilled, he knew he would last no longer than  
a few more minutes. He considered slowing again, but a surge of  
passion wound through him and he could only struggle through the  
minutes with a reckless abandon. Finally, he molded his front to  
Angel's back and, when he felt the moment of climax, bit Angel on  
the shoulder with enough fervor to draw blood. The bite seemed to  
have triggered Angel's orgasm as well and, accompanied by a  
smothered cry of "Rupert," come shot into Giles' hand in quick, cool  
spurts.

Feeling boneless, Giles lay on Angel's sweat-slicked back and tried  
to calm his frantic heart. Angel's body was slightly warmer than its  
usual temperature, but it was still cool enough to dampen the heat  
that still rippled through Giles' body. Obviously tired of carrying  
most of Giles' weight and maybe also from the sex, Angel gently  
rolled Giles off the vampire's back. Giles felt the roughness of the  
carpet hit his sensitized skin and suppressed a shiver, but a moan,  
nonetheless, escaped. He opened his lips as Angel pressed in for  
another kiss and Giles smiled at the smell of semen on them both.  
Sitting up, he rolled them over so that Angel lay supine on the  
floor, facing Giles with an inquisitive eyebrow arched. Giles kissed  
his way down the wondrous body and licked off all traces of sperm.  
Angel's cock in front of his nose, Giles considered sucking the  
column of flesh down his throat but let the idea drift away. No, he  
would rather kiss Angel silly and proceeded to do so.

Angel was presumably still not silly when the kiss ended; rather, he  
was excited again, although the myth of vampiric recuperative powers  
seemed to be untrue, if the state of Angel's organ was to be judged.  
Angel broke the kiss and stood up, pulling Giles up into a standing  
position also. Giles sighed.

Angel kissed Giles again. "I thought you said that we need to talk?"

Giles nodded and, with two fingers, traced an invisible line on  
Angel's cheek. Then they walked slowly downstairs, picking up pieces  
of clothing here and there. Giles thought about going into the  
bathroom to change, but realized how ridiculous the idea would be.  
But there always was something to be said about a shower and he  
licked his lips. He grasped Angel's hand and pulled its owner along  
into the bathroom. They showered quickly, still enjoying the  
physical connections between them, but did not provide each other  
touches that might lead to another round of sex. Finally, clean and  
warm, they emerged from the steamed-up room, Giles in a bathrobe and  
Angel naked as the day he was born. With unspoken agreement, they  
padded back up the stairs and tumbled into Giles' bed.

It was true that they still needed to talk, true that questions and  
accusations still needed to be worked out. But those were problems  
to be dealt with tomorrow. For what remained of this night, they  
would only rest, maybe a little tired, but for the time being, with  
Angel's arms around him, Giles was also content.

/~~finis~~/


End file.
